Crusade - James Lowder [55]
Mal laughed a deep braying laugh. "Ha. Good one, Kiri." The woman knit her brows in confusion. Her reply had been far from original. But then, she realized, Malmondes of Suzail was far from witty.
Both Razor John and Kiri Trollslayer shook their heads as Mal lumbered to his feet and stumbled to the galley. They both found the warrior trying on their patience, but he seemed completely devoted to them. In fact, John and Kiri found it difficult to get away from him for more than a few minutes at a time.
And though they enjoyed what little time they had alone, for now, at least, the couple was resigned to Mal's presence. There was simply nowhere on the ship to hide from him.
"By the Goddess of Pain, I hate that name," Kiri cursed softly but passionately as soon as Mal was out of earshot. She kicked the soldier's blanket up against the gunwale and sat down on the bowsprit.
John looked at her sympathetically. "Are you ready to tell me why yet?"
Kiri sighed and glanced around. A Sembian sailor swabbed the deck nearby, while two others just free of watch curled up against a nearby hatch to sleep. "With that kind of name-," she began, then stopped abruptly when one of the dozing Sembian sailors looked up at her.
"Mind your own damned business," Kiri snapped. She leaned toward the sailor as if daring him to reply. He snorted a laugh, then turned and at least pretended not to be listening.
Razor John moved closer to Kiri. "Go on," he urged. More than anyone the fletcher had met-including the flower girl in Suzail's marketplace-she ignited his interest. The more he knew about her, the better.
Kiri locked her sparkling eyes on John's face and smiled. "People expect me to be some kind of professional troll killer. I've never even seen a troll in my life. One might come up and bite me, and I wouldn't be able to tell it apart from a tax collector."
The Sembian sailor rolled over again. "Have you heard the joke about the tax collector?" he asked, ignoring Kiri's angry stare. "No? All right, what's the boldest thing in Faerun?" When no one replied, the sailor said, "A tax collector's shirt. It hangs around the neck of a thief every day."
"That isn't the way I heard it," Mal said, standing above the sailor. A look of confusion crossed his thick-boned, fleshy face. "I thought the joke was about Sembian millers."
For an instant Kiri considered telling Mal that the sailor had just finished a joke about King Azoun, for that would certainly provoke the warrior into hitting the nosy sailor. She relented, deciding that a fight would mean another run-in between Mal and the first mate. No one needed that. "He just got it wrong, Mal. Hear any news in the galley?"
The blond soldier shoved a whole biscuit in his mouth, chewed twice, then swallowed. "Yeah, actually I did. One of the cooks heard that the captain of Azoun's carrack, the, uh-" He scratched his head in confusion.
" Welleran," John said between bites of fruit. He glanced at Mal and realized that the thickness of his facial bones accentuated the bewildered look that often clung to the warrior.
"Yeah," Mal said, "the Welleran. Anyway, the captain supposedly took some of the gold that was meant to be sacrificed to Umberlee before the fleet left Suzail. They say that he was the cause of that storm."
"They going to give him a trial?" Kiri asked, leaning back against the railing.
Mal wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his coarse woolen shirt. "Nah. He's dead. Got washed overboard during the storm."
"The gods take their due," Razor John noted. Kiri nodded, and Mal just scratched his chest through his damp clothing.
A voice from the rigging broke the silence that followed the fletcher's comment. "Ship off the starboard!"
The companions squinted until they saw a small speck near the horizon. In minutes, the Sarnath's bow had been realigned toward the dot. John, Kiri, and Mal sat near the bowsprit for a time, watching the other ship grow larger and larger. The first mate, a cross, foul-mouthed